Fearing The Reapers
by TheRecklessSyndicate
Summary: For a gamer reborn as a turian, life was never going to be simple.


How would you like to hear a story?

That's a stupid question, isn't it? You're still reading this, aren't you? You're obviously expecting some kind of narrative.

See, this is one hell of a story, so you might want to get comfortable because this is gonna take a while.

You probably don't know for sure what happens after death.

If you're anything like me, you grew up completely indifferent towards the multiple theories of what happens after you passed on from this life. Sure, you thought about it every once and a while, but it was never anything that would occupy your mind for very long.

Who could blame you? Leave a question like that up to the philosophers. Easier that way, and will leave you with less of a headache in the long run.

That's alright. I was the same way.

At least until I was reborn into a video game.

And not just any video game either. This video game in particular was called Mass Effect.

Figures. I die and then immediately get reborn into a ticking time bomb of a universe. Someone had a sick sense of humor.

How'd I died? Well, it's kind of… Actually, I guess it doesn't matter now. What does matter is that before this story: 1) I was a human and 2) I was completely nondescript.

Seriously, I was one of those guys that could rob a bank in broad daylight without a mask and still have a decent chance of getting away with it. Just one of those people that you would meet and then immediately forget. The only thing remarkable about my life was that I was extraordinarily ordinary. Nothing special there.

Which raises the question of why I got reincarnated in the first place?

Truth is I didn't know. Like I said, I lived a very ordinary life. Not good, not bad. Just ordinary. You would assume that since I lived such an ordinary life, I should be born again into an ordinary life. Only I wasn't.

This leads us to point number one; I **was** human. Emphasis on 'was'.

In this life (if you really want to believe in this reincarnation business) I'm a turian. And not just any turian.

My name is Tyrus Vakarian. Older brother to Garrus and Solana. Son to Aetius and Tacita Vakarian.

Yeah, I was pretty freaked out too.

For any of you that know anything about the games (and I'm sure many of you do), Tyrus Vakarian was never mentioned. Not even once. That's because Tyrus Vakarian wasn't supposed to exist in any of the games.

Are you starting to understand my dilemma?

I shouldn't exist.

But I did.

It was all one big migraine that I've been dealing with since waking up to the shock of being born.

And let me tell you, it's not a pleasant experience, being born. The mind isn't supposed to remember those first few moments of life. The first time you breathe in cold sterilized air. So cold and shocking that it stings your lungs. The first time light hits your eyes, so bright and brilliant that it's blinding. First time someone wraps you in their arms, holding you close and cooing over your bawling form because you're only about six to nine pounds in weight and extremely, nauseatingly, helpless. And you're crying nonstop, because instincts kicked in and you can literally do nothing else, but cry and cry and cry…

It was downright traumatizing.

Coincidentally, that was around the time I decided that having kids was probably not for me.

I was a horrible little bastard of a baby too. I'm actually really surprised that mom and dad went on to have two more kids after me, especially since I was such a nightmare.

Garrus put up a fight. I'm proud to say that he hated being held almost as much as I did. Knew he was my brother. Of course Solana was the perfect baby girl. Kiss up.

I'm getting off track, aren't I? Sorry, where were we? Something about me being a demon child?

It wasn't completely my fault. Wouldn't you be a total mental wreck if one moment you were in absolute control of your actions and then the next you were floundering about with awkward, tiny, limbs that weren't your own? In a body that was definitely foreign? With terrifying aliens crowding around you, trying to get you to stop crying and inadvertently making you cry out all the more?

Don't lie to me, you'd be freaking the fuck out too.

It was wrong, I know, to be horrified by your parents and your own body, but I couldn't help it! We were pre-historic aliens with talons and sharp rigid plates and mandibles. My fear was justified. Of course, this led to some very disturbing encounters with mirrors for the first half of my life.

When my parents took me home, I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. The fact that I'm sane is nothing short of a miracle. I didn't know where I was, when I was, or even who I was. All I knew was that one moment I was fully grown male human and then the next I was a tiny dinosuar-bird like thing with huge, terrifying, dinosaur bird-like parents.

That was, until, after a year of alternating between states of boredom and panic attacks. That's when I finally mastered my horribly odd ears enough to understand my mothers flanging voice as she cooed my name.

Tyrus Vakarian.

Vakarian.

As in turian.

As in Mass Effect.

As in _Oh damn._


End file.
